


Once Upon a Dream

by Fiamma



Series: Once upon a dream [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Dreamsharing, Feel-good, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, POV Lance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiamma/pseuds/Fiamma
Summary: He never dared tell his parents, usually only told close friends. Once he told the school psychiatrist who wrote it off as just a weird trick of the mind. He's used to people telling him it's probably nothing, that the brain is weird about those things.But Lance knows it's real.Every single night he has the exact same dream.About the exact same guy.





	Once Upon a Dream

Lance had always hated this time of night, especially at a club, especially with an overeager, albeit not as drunk as he thought she’d be, Pidge who had just gotten her first id a week prior on her 21st birthday and had been pestering them all week to join her on a clubbing spree. He slurped his cola, it was his turn to be the designated driver, and raked his eyes over the faces crowding his vision. Pidge was practically skipping as she pushed through the mass of bodies, a drink in each hand and Lance grinned as he watched Hunk stumble unsteadily after her.

“Whiskey sours? Really?” He could hear the desperation in Hunk’s voice since he knew he’d be subject to drink one of the two drinks Pidge put on the table. They both settled into the booth Lance had kept occupied for them.

Lance snorted as Pidge put the cherry garnishing the drink in her mouth and pulled on the stem, making a pop sound as it disconnected from the fruit.

“I told you i'm trying every drink on the menu!” She said between noisy chewing.

“Besides, maybe my own indulgence will give Lance some inspiration to get out of dreamland for once” she swallowed and picked up one of the glasses, sniffing it curiously and grimaced at the strong smell of alcohol. Lance frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he more so stated than asked.

“You know, your _boyfriend_ ” Pidge explained, although there was really no need to. They’d had this discussion a hundred times already, and it was always always in situations where Lance couldn’t escape and where one of Pidge’s ‘solutions’ would be readily available. She stared him down haughtily over the edge of her glass, managing not to grimace when she took the first slurp. Hunk was fidgeting next to her, shooting Lance apologetic glances as he tried his best to make Pidge think he was drinking too.

“He’s real. I just haven’t met him yet.” Lance scowled, leaning back against the cushion of the booth and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, we know buddy, we just worry, ya know?” Hunk tried, but he was quickly shushed by Pidge.

“You’re _23_ and you haven’t ever been in a relationship” Pidge said incredulously, “What if he isn't real? And you’re just sitting here spending your entire youth alone - Don't try to hide it, we _know_ you're lonely, Lance”

Lance looked away. Refusing to have this discussion again he quickly excused himself to the bathroom, pushing through the crowd with little finesse and entered the relative quiet of one of the toilet stalls with a shaky breath. He could still hear the bass pumping through the tiles on the floor, could practically feel the energy of the crowd as he slumped against the wall.

He knew Pidge meant well. She tried to help in her own way, which usually involved a lot of pushing, but in this case he wished she would just let him be. He’d already decided on this, had promised him that he would wait for him.

He took a deep, calming breath, pissed, and returned to Pidge and Hunk. After another hour they finally returned home to his and Hunk’s shared apartment where Pidge would be crashing for the night.

Lance felt spent, the entire ride home Pidge had been discussing some sort of scientific valuable that she and Hunk had been working on and apparently the alcohol had kickstarted some process in her brain that led her to have revelation after revelation. Too bad none of it was written down, as far as Lance remembered, not that it mattered much to him.

He’d dropped out of school a long time ago.

Finally plopping into bed after ensuring both Pidge and Hunk were taken care of, he closed his eyes and felt his heart flutter as it always did; it knew what was about to happen. Just like it had happened every night for as long as he could remember.

A hand on his cheek, a small touch, fingers warm against his skin and he turned his face slightly to kiss them. Then an arm tucked around his waist and a hand was placed in his own, lifting it up until it was stretched out to his side, his other falling neatly into place on a strong shoulder.

It wasn’t until they started moving he dared open his eyes.

Too many times he’d been overeager and opened them too soon, and the dream had faded away in the darkness of his room, leaving him bereft and empty.

Now, his feet moved to a soundless beat, in perfect sync with the body pressed flush up against his own. He opened his eyes and there he was.

He let out a breathless laugh.

They swirled around each other, always touching, eyes locked to the other’s as they smiled and laughed and never messed up a single step.

One two three,

One two three.

Dark eyes watched him with such an intensity he thought he might melt and strong arms guided him around their little plateau of happiness, high in the sky, surrounded by pink clouds and glass flowers and stars watching them from above.

He felt lightheaded when their dance started to lull and soon they were standing still, not moving from where they stood pressed up against each other. He felt a hand behind his neck and before he knew it his lips were warm and tingly. Their kiss was sweet and light, just as it had been a hundred times before, yet it still made Lance’s heart thunder in his ears even as his own hands raked up his boyfriend’s body, nestling themselves in the length of hair that poked out over his shoulders.

He tried to remember if the dream had ever been different, but he couldn’t.

He woke up with flushed cheeks, a bright grin and a desperate erection.

  


“I swear if it wasn’t for that boyfriend of yours, you wouldn’t be such a morning person” Pidge groaned from the couch, slumped over in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable position with her feet on the back of the couch and her upper body twisted to rest against the arm of it. She was nursing a cup of coffee that she was somehow not managing to spill all over.

“Maybe it's because I don’t drink” Lance teased and popped two pieces of toast in their dingy toaster. The timer was broken, so he had to stay there to watch for the toast not to burn. Hunk made an appearance wearing nothing but a towel, followed by a rush of steam as the bathroom door opened. He yawned and waved off Lance’s wolf whistle as he entered his own room to dress for the day. He returned a few minutes later in a sweatshirt and pants, scratching lazily at his stubbly chin, just in time to watch Lance curse and dig out the slightly-too-crispy pieces of bread out of the toaster, managing to break one piece in half and severely mutilate the other with his fork.

“Ever the amazing cook” he teased and started brewing his own cup of coffee.

“You’d think a confectionary would know how to make toast” Pidge chimed in, grinning upside-down from the couch.

“Shut it” Lance scowled as he smeared rapidly melting butter on his breakfast.

 

They spent the morning chatting idly about clubbing-experiences and what to use your id for, sometimes googling random factoids they couldn’t agree on which then divulged to Pidge remembering her revelations from the evening before and she and Hunk quickly left Lance behind as they pulled out their notepads to start writing stuff down, speaking rapidly in what sounded to Lance like an entirely different language.

He sighed and looked at the clock - still four hours until he had to turn up at the Hotel.

He’d worked there for three years now, at first as a bellboy, but when it was discovered he had a knack for cooking he was assigned to help out in the kitchen and that had developed to him becoming the regular confectionary when the position opened up half a year ago.

He didn’t have any formal education past high school, but his superiors didn’t seem to mind that. The hotel manager was the same, started from the bottom and worked her way up, so he supposed she empathised. Neither of them were very studious, but they were hard workers and they enjoyed what they did. Lance thought she was one of the coolest people he’d ever known.

 

She greeted him when he walked in through the lobby an hour too early for his shift with a grin he could only hope to imitate. He clutched his chef’s hat in his hands and tried his best to smooth out his apron before he responded with a warm;

“Hey boss”

She winked at him and he felt warm to his core, even as she returned her attention to the clipboard in her hands and the conversation with one of the receptionists about what still needed to be done for the day. The lunch rush would start soon.

The hotel was a big one, on the good side of famous and the high end of not-exactly-cheap.

“The Millennium” was written out in large curly letters on every napkin and menu card, the bordeaux and soft blue color scheme surrounded Lance as he strolled around the dining area ensuring everything was laid out perfectly.

When he entered the kitchen he was greeted by the rather lanky-looking head chef who offered a nod and went back to preparing the 150-ish entrées laid out, ready to be cooked, each in their own dish, with a focus and speed that made Lance dizzy. One of the younger cooks, around Lance’s age, was arranging bread on cooking trays in the back and he could smell the stock heating up by the stoves as he passed by. The room was already thrumming with energy; from the guys chopping vegetables, to the woman preparing the grill to the head chef shouting commands over his shoulder as they went about their various tasks.

His own hands worked with expertise as he checked for materials and started tempering the chocolate he’d need for the hotel’s signature desert; the blooming chocolate flower.

He’d already prepared at least a hundred, sitting in parts in the freezer, ready to be put together once ordered, but they were sold quickly and he needed a ready supply. Especially considering that he wouldn’t be spending all his shift in the kitchen.

There was a reason his apron was a fancy bordeaux color and the hotel’s name was scrawled out over his chest, similar yet distinct compared to the waiter’s uniforms. Definitely made him stand out between the other chefs too and it was also the reason he wasn’t allowed to help out the kitchen staff aside from things he was certain wouldn’t get him dirty.

 

It was an hour into his shift when the first order of flowers came and he quickly picked up the tray he’d kept ready. A warm, metal jug of chocolate and three plates of what appeared to simply be chocolate balls clinked against each other as he carried it with one hand into the dining area, head held high, smiling brightly. He placed the tray on the designated table with a flourish and a spin, and a ‘good day to you sirs’ as he placed each plate in front of a person. Business men, it appeared, in travelling suits and with wrinkles and gray hairs despite not looking a day over forty. They all looked at him with kind expressions, one seemed slightly excited which made him believe they might be regulars, or knew what was going to happen.

He picked up the metal jug. Slowly, with an expert’s hand, he drew lines over the chocolate balls and they opened as the warmth melted through and gravity brought each piece to rest against the edge of the plate, revealing their colorful interior.

One of the men gasped and brought forth his phone to record as Lance repeated his motions over the other two dishes, grinning happily.

All three men thanked him when he bowed and left them to enjoy their desert. He caught a hint of the animated conversation that started as he walked back to the kitchen, a language he hadn’t heard in a while. Spanish. It hummed pleasantly in his ears and when he settled in making brownies, roasting pecans and checking the ice cream he had put in the ice cream maker he found himself mumbling in his mother-tongue.

 

The rest of his shift came and went with the usual back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area, and when the restaurant closed he enjoyed the quiet hum of the refrigerators. The feeling of piping bags filled with cream in his hands, the satisfaction of seeing a table filled with hundreds of identical pieces of chocolate, he thought he couldn’t be happier.

The head chef clapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his focus and made him drop one half of a macaron on the floor. They both laughed as Lance picked it up and threw it out, meanwhile the head chef, Viktor, put its counterpart in his mouth and grinned over his raised index-finger, indicating it was a secret. Lance laughed again.

“Remember to head home, y’hear?” Viktor said, “Can’t have you sleeping in the kitchen. If anything, ask Charley for a room.”

“Don’t worry, I’m heading home in a bit” Lance promised, and Viktor left with a disbelieving chuckle. The kitchens had no windows and was brightly lit, so it wasn’t until Lance looked at the clock hanging behind the ventilation systems by the grill he realized it was well past midnight. He sighed and rubbed his neck. He quickly changed to his casual wear in the tiny locker room and walked out into the lobby. The night-shift receptionist chuckled when he winked at her and wished her a good evening, stepping into the fresh night air before he could hear her fumble over her words like she always did.

She was cute, he thought, and something tugged on him painfully.

 

It was cold, despite already being the middle of april, and he shivered in his sweatshirt as he walked to his car, unlocking it and climbing inside. He put the heating to max and started the drive home, letting the music from the radio rush over him as he sang along to what lyrics he could remember. When he arrived at the apartment he’d mostly warmed up, although his fingers felt numb. He was greeted by Hunk's back, bent over his laptop, tapping furiously at the keys and not even looking up. Lance caught a hint of a conversation on Discord, reading his own name and frowned.

“What are you chatting about” he asked tentatively.

“Oh! Uh, nothing! School stuff” Hunk tried, grinning nervously at Lance who sighed.

“Huuuuunk.”

“Pidge will kill me” his friend pleaded, minimizing the chat which continued getting blown up. The little pings were loud in the silence that followed as Lance stared him down.

“This better not be another blind date”

Hunk sighed, opening up his computer to type a final message and then shut it down.

“How was work?” He asked, trying to ignore his phone buzzing in his pocket. Soon Lance’s phone was beeping as well.

“It was good, how’s the project coming along?”

“Oh Pidge actually got this amazing idea, you remember what we were talking about this morning? Well-” Lance made a cup of tea and sat down on the couch listening to Hunk until an hour later when he was practically cuddled up against his best friend's side, feeling warm and tingly and half-asleep, barely listening as Hunk went over how their latest tests had given them amazing feedback and how they might win some sort of prize for their work and become famous. Lance muttered incoherently and yawned which prompted Hunk to stop in his tracks and laugh.

“Dude, you need a body pillow or something until that guy of yours turns up”

“Mjnoh I don’t” he argued weakly as he let Hunk guide him to his bedroom. He all but collapsed on his bed, curling into his covers and kicking off his pants as soon as he heard the click of his door indicating Hunk had left.

He was embraced by warm, pink clouds almost immediately.

Strong hands curled around his hips and they danced until he was dizzy, a different pace this time. The dance often changed, when he was younger it had been heated, awkward, now it was a little more refined. The other man lifted him into the air, spun him around and brought him back down; Lance felt weightless. They spun, jumped, moved in tune to music that wasn’t there. The only beat they followed was that of their hearts, dictated by this strange dreamscape and they laughed.

When they moved to kiss, Lance hesitated. He knew the kiss meant the end. He knew that when his lips met the other’s he’d wake up and all of this would be gone, he’d go back to thinking it was all a dream. It felt so real, it had to be real.

He both did and didn’t want that kiss so badly, it made his head spin.

He looked into those smoldering eyes and saw a flicker of emotions echoing his own and for the first time in a very long time he opened his mouth in an attempt to speak.

He’d never been able to before, didn’t fully believe he’d be able to this time. He wanted so badly to ask, to know if he was real, or if it really was all just a dream, wanted to ask if his lover was just a fragment of his imagination or another human being, dreaming somewhere else in the world.

He tried to speak but nothing came out, not even a croak. He was sure the other could see the desperation in his expression, even as he shook his head sadly. They hugged each other tightly, Lance felt a kiss pressed to his jaw and then he woke up. No words, no sounds, cheeks quickly stained by teartracks as the sun sent rays of light over his shivering body.

 

“Who pissed in your OJ” one of the bellboys scowled as Lance cursed when they knocked into each other. He was off his game today, his hands were shaky.

Viktor noticed and asked one of the trainee chefs to don one of the bordeaux aprons and do the blooming flowers instead of Lance. He’d argued, of course, that a bad day shouldn’t stop him from doing his work but Viktor silenced him with a look and a well-meant bark and then Lance was back to decorating cakes and putting together elaborate desserts for the rest of the day.

He didn't mess up any of the products, at least, and he managed to produce more than he usually did since he could focus entirely on that without having to run to the dining room every other second. He also didn't have to bother being extra careful not to get dirty, so when his shift was almost over and it was only him and Viktor left in the kitchen, he had colorful spots all over his uniform.

Viktor was drinking a celebratory end-of-shift-beer, leaning against one of the kitchen isles and looking much older than his 33 years. Lance was finishing the last of the piping work on a cake decorated with a humongous sugar-dahlia, ordered for a birthday the next day.

“Remember to head home, y’hear?” Viktor said quietly, not wanting to startle Lance as he meticulously painted web-thin strings in a complicated pattern. Lance hummed noncommittally but listened as Viktor left the room, his footsteps loud in the empty kitchen.

He finished the cake, stored it safely in the refrigerator before sighing deeply and stretching his sore muscles. It was almost 1am when he walked through the lobby in his casual wear, winked at the receptionist and found his car in the cold parking lot.

He fumbled with his keys more than he usually did.

 

When he opened the door to his and Hunk’s apartment there were no lights on. Hunk was probably asleep. He sat down on the couch and breathed in deeply. He wondered what his boyfriend smelled like, which prompted him to wonder if the person on the other end of the dreams would even consider them to be dating.

Did they think it was more than just dreams? Had they given up hope a long time ago?

 

His phone rang suddenly and loudly. Lance jumped before shakily rummaging through his pocket to open it up and see who it was.

The name ‘Matthew Holt’ flashed on the screen and Lance wondered what on earth Pidge’s older brother wanted at this hour of the night. He tapped the green phone icon and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey! Sorry, did I wake you up?” Matt asked, voice buzzing slightly.

“No, I actually just got home from work” he answered, reaching out for a pillow and hugging it over his stomach.

“Oh, yeah I forgot you get home this late, such a hard worker” a small chuckle, “Listen I uh, I need a favor.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know Shiro my roommate? Yeah the dance instructor-dude. His cousin is visiting at the moment but they went out drinking and-”

“On a monday?” Lance snorted.

“I know, I’ve already scolded Shiro but - He kinda stumbled home without his cousin and since I don't have a driver's license and Shiro is in no condition to drive…”

“You want me to go pick him up?”

“I’d really really appreciate it, Pidge told me to call you.” Lance rolled his eyes at that.

“Alright sure, I got you man” he said, readying himself mentally for the drive downtown. His apartment was much closer to the city center than Shiro and Matt’s, so he usually just walked back and forth. Hopefully this cousin of Shiro’s wouldn’t puke in his car.

“Tell him to meet me at the 7/11 near the theater” he said and Matt promised he’d be there, thanking him again.

He sighed and picked up his keys.

 

It had started raining when he parked near the neon signs of the 7/11 he’d decided would be the best place to pick someone up. A little bit away from most of the bars and easy to spot from a distance. His windshield wipers pumped out a steady beat as the rain increased and Lance leaned back in his seat. He didn’t feel as tired as he thought he would, considering it was nearing four in the morning, thank god he didn't have to turn up to work until like 14 tomorrow.

A figure walked out from an alley, looked around, noticed Lance’s car and started half-jogging towards him. The guy looked to be around his height, dark hair peeking out at the edges of a hood that obscured most of his face and sheltered him from the rain. Lance followed him with his eyes, still sitting relaxed in the driver’s seat. The guy opened the rear car door furthest from Lance and peeked in,

“Lance?” he asked,

“That’s me. Don't puke please”

Not that Lance thought he would, he hadn’t been wobbling, although the rain mightve obscured it and the smell of alcohol. Lance tried to get a glimpse of his face, but the contrast from the light illuminating the rearview mirror and himself compared to the darkness of the backseat and the figure backlit by the neon signs of the shops he quickly gave up.

Shiro’s cousin hesitated visibly, and Lance could’ve imagine it, but he thought his hand was shaking, mouth opening as if to say something. Then he got in, closing the car door carefully and put on his seatbelt. Lance pulled out into the relatively empty street and started the drive back to Shiro and Matt’s apartment.

“So what’s your name?” Lance asked politely, he felt antsy in the silence, especially with a complete stranger.

He never knew Shiro had a cousin - not that he knew much about Shiro at all, other than his reputation as a famous dancer. Well, before he lost his arm, that was. Lance had met him when he’d signed up for one of his dance classes around the same time as he met Pidge, intrigued to learn that Pidge’s older brother and Shiro had been roommates for years.

“Keith” the guy said. He hadn’t pulled down his hood and combined with Lance’s focus on driving properly despite being somewhat sleep deprived meant he still couldn’t get a good look. Meanwhile, Shiro’s cousin seemed to be staring unabashedly at him. It was a little unnerving. Maybe he was just that kind of drunk? The kind that lost all inhibitions?

Lance shrugged it off.

“Cool, I never knew Shiro had a cousin, do you dance as well?” They’d gotten a little ways out of downtown now, entering the larger residential areas that seemed like a maze to Lance.

“A little, yeah” Keith said, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“That’s cool, I went to some of his classes once, it was pretty fun, been considering starting again” he continued. Smalltalk had always been his forté, he just let his mouth say the first thing he thought of and focused his mind on remembering where Shiro and Matt’s building was.

“Yeah” Keith responded, and again Lance could’ve imagine it, but the dude sounded a little breathless. Was he gonna be okay? Hopefully he wasn’t gonna throw up.

He pulled into the parking lot of what he was fairly certain was the right apartment complex and turned around in his seat.

“You gonna need me to help you to the door? You know the number?”

Keith shook his head but didn't get out immediately. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, hands clutching the front of his shirt desperately.

“Hey, you alright? You not gonna-” Lance started but he was interrupted as Keith suddenly burst out;

“Do you ever dream?”

Lance’s mind did the equivalent of a hiccup as he flinched. Then he frowned.

“I, uh, yeah that's pretty normal-” He wasn’t about to go blabbering about his dreams to just any odd drunk he was picking off the sidewalk, but his stomach still clenched in anticipation - Why would Keith bring _that_ up?

“No! I mean - ugh!” and then Keith flung open the car door and stalked off across the parking lot, stopping once to look back, hands in his pockets, before making it to the door and ringing the buzzer.

Lance watched him dumbfounded for a moment, then shrugged and thought ‘that guy’s weird’ as he turned his keys in the ignition and started driving back home.

 

He got back at around 5am and all but crashed unto his bed. He could hear Hunk’s snoring on the other side of the wall and decided to follow his example, kicking off his clothes with a bit of effort, leaving it all in a pile at the foot of his bed and curled around his duvet.

He tossed and turned, unable to sleep despite feeling like his body was about to give in. The image of Keith cowering in his backseat haunted him, the black hair poking out at the edges of his hood, a strong chin and lips pressed together in a thin line. Streetlights running over him, illuminating him and then leaving him in darkness once more. Over and over.

Lance tried desperately to recall his face, but he couldn’t.

 

Slowly, finally, he felt pink clouds envelop him.

But it was different.

Almost immediately he felt hands on his body, but they were desperate, demanding, clinging to him as if they thought he might run away. He looked up at his love’s face and was shocked to see tears running down his cheeks. He frowned, tried to make a cooing sound, but of course his voice didn't work in this dreamscape that walked the thin line between being heaven or hell. He brushed his thumb under the other’s eye, trying to mouth ‘what’s wrong’, feeling his heart clench as he wondered what could possibly have happened.

Was it his own confusion about Keith that had prompted the dream to change? Because Keith had mentioned dreams?

Suddenly he felt warm lips on his and for a moment he wanted to break away, because _no, the dream couldn’t end already, he needed to know why-_

He woke up in a cold sweat, panting, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

 

Hunk convinced him to stay home that day, leaving for university with a stern ‘take care of yourself’ and a ‘there’s food in fridge, help yourself’ before closing the door. Lance got up to lock it, then slumped back on the couch. He’d already called the hotel and they told him it was okay, they would have one of the trainees take over his duties for the day and to get plenty of rest. The manager was so _kind_.

He watched the bustle of the city from the window in their living room with muted interest, inner turmoil making it hard for him to focus as he slurped his third cup of tea.

The hell had happened? He felt like he hadn’t slept at all, the dream had ended so abruptly …

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it, not feeling up to being social, wanted to forget the world for a bit and just exist.

Some seagulls flew by, their loud calls floating over him. He opened the window to hear them better and was awarded with a gentle breeze. It was warm today.

His phone buzzed again.

He stared at it, annoyed, where it laid on the coffee table, then sighed and picked it up.

A message from Pidge.

“Hey what happened yesterday”

“Matt says you broke Keith’s heart”

 

Lance frowned, the hell? The guy had barely responded to his questions and then he’d stormed off without warning a moment later!

 

Lance: I don't even know the guy?

 

Lance quickly tapped out. It took a few minutes before three little animated dots appeared next to Pidge’s icon.

 

Pidge: Well you did something that really upset him, Matt says he’s all over the place.

Pidge: Sooooo what happened?

Lance: I drove him home, he was drunk and said some weird stuff and then stormed off because he didn't like my answer.

 

He paused for a moment before writing out, in a separate message; “I think.”

 

Pidge: Well either way you should go apologise so Matt stops blowing up my phone.

Lance: No. He didn't even say thank you for the ride! He was being super rude! >:c

Pidge: Well you should meet up with him anyway.

Lance: ... You’re just trying to set me up with him, aren’t you?

Lance: Is that why you told Matt to ask me to pick him up? >__>

Pidge: No, I just knew you’d probably still be awake and you were closest.

Pidge: Listen, I’ve known Keith since forever and he’s a cool dude. He usually doesn’t go off like this and im worried.

Pidge: So. If talking to you could make it better, I’d like to try and make it happen.

 

Lance groaned.

 

Lance: Okaaaayyyy. But you owe me lunch.

Pidge: Maybe you could have lunch with Keith? ;)

Lance: No.

Pidge: Spoil sport.

Lance: Whatever.

Lance: What’s his number? I’ll write him.

 

He wrote the number Pidge gave him on a piece of paper Hunk had left out on the coffee table and tabbed over in his phone to save it to his contacts. He quickly wrote out a paragraph and sent it, settling in to wait for a reply.

 

Lance: Hey, you alright bud? Pidge gave me your number, told me I should write to you. It’s Lance by the way, from last night.

 

Lance was in the middle of heating up some of the rice Hunk had left for him in the fridge when his phone buzzed. The microwave dinged right at the same time, so it wasn’t until he was a few forkfuls into the bowl before he noticed he’d received a message.

 

Keith: Hey, yeah I’m okay.

Keith: Don't worry about it.

Lance: Oh, alright.

 

Lance frowned. He seemed alright, maybe Pidge really had just been trying to set him up again? This seemed a bit elaborate tho, even for her.

He debated with himself while eating the rest of his rice, then picked up his phone again.

 

Lance: Why did you ask me about dreams?

 

There it was. Lance sent it with his heart in his throat although he wasn’t sure why. If it really had affected him so bad that his dreams were changing because of it, he ought to try and get an explanation, however awkward the conversation might become.

He almost jumped when he received a reply.

 

Keith: I was probably just drunk.

Keith: You seemed familiar, like i’d seen you in a dream before.

 

Oh. Of course. Lance felt his heart sink. He’d somehow hoped that maybe it was something a bit more exciting than that. Maybe something like-

_Like dreaming about a guy every night your entire life and finally meeting said person?_

Lance bit his lip.

It couldn’t be Keith, no way. Sure he hadn’t seen his face properly, and sure they had the same general build, the same hair color and similar looking lips but that could all be a coincidence.

He felt his heart skip a beat.

He hadn’t actually considered if Keith _could_ be-

 

Lance: Hey, send me a selfie.

Keith: Why?

Lance: I need to put a picture of you in my contacts.

 

 _Great excuse, Lance_ , he thought, facepalming where he sat on the couch. He was totally gonna fall for that.

 

Keith: … Okay.

Keith: Give me a minute.

 

_Holy shit it worked._

His eyes were like glued to the phone while he waited, hands shaking and clammy.

Finally his phone buzzed and he enlarged the image before the preview had even loaded.

He thought his heart might’ve stopped.

 

  


There he was. Clear as day. Even clearer than in his dreams.

No way.

  


No way,

No way,

No way.

This was happening.

He kept staring at his phone like an idiot, heart beating a mile a minute, cheeks probably redder than his apron at work. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when three little dots jumped animatedly next to Keith’s still empty icon.

 

Keith: Will that do?

 

 _Yes. Yes that would do._ Lance’s mind was spinning.

 

Lance: Yep! Thanks.

 

_Smooth._

 

Lance: You know, you look pretty familiar too. It was kinda dark in the car so I couldn’t really see you.

Keith: Yeah it was kinda dark.

 

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted desperately to continue the conversation, wanted to know if Keith also had these dreams, wanted to relive those dreams but with Keith. It came as a sudden realization that he was happy he hadn’t found out what Keith looked like while in public, let alone while they were together.

He fidgeted in his seat, typing and deleting several messages until finally he groaned. He couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t come off creepy, or weird, or stupid.

_Hey do you dream about me every night?_

_Hey have you ever dreamt that we dance around a plateau surrounded by pink clouds?_

_Btw, have you longed to meet me your entire life?_

_Ugh._

 

His phone buzzed and he almost threw it in surprise. He opened it with shaky hands.

 

Keith: Im at Shiro’s dance studio atm but he’s kinda busy and i'm hungry, you know any good places to eat?

Lance: Yeah, actually, you wanna grab lunch together?

Keith: Sure

 

Lance practically jumped up off the couch, changed out of his pyjamas and rushed out of the door.

The entire ride there he was drumming on his steering wheel, humming along to the radio and fidgeting. He just couldn’t sit still. He felt alive.

He parked in front of the dance studio, a large, fancy-looking building that shared the parking lot with a supermarket. He fished around in his dashboard’s drawers for the parking permit that Shiro had given him a long time ago, one that wouldn’t expire so he could park there any time he wanted, and found it after a good amount of searching. He placed it on the dashboard right as he caught sight of a figure walking up to the car.

He got out, almost forgot his keys in the ignition and after swooping down to get them and closing the door he clicked the appropriate button to lock the car without looking away from Keith. He couldn’t help the giddy grin that was plastered on his face.

Keith was smiling too.

“Hey” Lance said, _like an idiot,_ raising his hand to wave. Keith raised his hand as well, and it stayed there for an adorably long amount of time before he quickly shoved it back in the pocket of his jacket. They both chuckled nervously.

“Hey” Keith echoed, “So where were you thinking?”

Lance finally worked up the nerve to move, walking past Keith and managing to rip his eyes from his face before he’d have to turn and walk backwards. He waved a hand for Keith to follow.

“There’s this hot dog place called Frankie’s right around the corner, it’s awesome”

“Sounds good” Keith said and Lance felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up at how _real_ he sounded.

He directed them down a heavily crowded street, trying to remember the last time he’d been here when the mass of people started pressing them closer together. Their hands brushed against each other’s and he felt like he might explode, but he kept it together. When he grinned at Keith he found that the other guy was blushing too, looking at least as excited as he was.

“It’s right over there - YES! There’s no queue! We must’ve missed the lunch rush” He informed Keith who was following him quietly, trying to keep up as Lance weaved in and out of the crowd.

When he stopped suddenly in front of the modest-looking restaurant Keith didn't react fast enough and Lance felt a rush as they collided. He realized belatedly that he might have stopped that way on purpose, always one for antics.

“Shoot, sorry I-” Lance turned, reaching out to help steady him, but Keith was just smiling and shaking his head,

“Don't worry, I’m fine.”

He really needed to stop acting like a lovestruck teenager.

When Keith straightened, it took Lance a breathless moment to realize how similar their position was to his dreams. Their dreams. _Their dreams?_ He blinked and swallowed thickly, didn’t dare consider the possibility that Keith’s eyes had widened just a fraction because he’d had the same thought. Lance was the first to look away.

“Alright, what would you like?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck as he looked over the menu he’d stopped in front of, plastered to the side of the building with rusty screws in each corner.

It was more retro than the menus at the hotel, with a lot more items that Lance knew must be hell on the cooks. Large, bold letters described a multitude of hotdogs, different versions of fries and a couple of salads. Lance already knew what he was having, the same as always: Bacon fries. With cheese. Those things were heaven.

“The hell are these?” Keith laughed, and Lance thought he might just fly away at how incredible that sound was. “A mac and cheese hot dog? Really?”

 

Keith ended up getting the mac and cheese hot dog.

Lance laughed when his face lit up as he bit into it and they both gushed about how good the food was. Keith especially seemed intrigued that the place was so cheap, considering it was in the middle of the city and in a really good location, Lance sat back and enjoyed listening to his voice for a while. Keith seemed to know a bit about business, perhaps he was studying it?

There was a lull in the conversation in which Lance finished his fries and Keith started chowing down on the second half of his hot dog.

“So how long are you staying in town?” Lance asked and immediately regretted it when he saw Keith tense up. He swallowed.

“I don’t know.” He put his hot dog down on the little tray it had come in.

Lance frowned, fidgeting with a napkin as he tried to figure out what to say, the sudden silence wasn’t at all the same comfortable one they’d fallen into before. He adjusted his feet under the table and accidentally knocked into Keith’s.

Both guys looked up at the same time, then Keith chuckled and shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m just a little lost. In truth I came here because I got kicked out of my apartment and I don't really have anywhere to live, so Shiro said I could crash with them until I found something.”

“Oh, I’m sorry” was all Lance could think to say. He felt like shoving his foot in his mouth. Keith shrugged and went back to eating.

“It’s okay. I’ll be working at the studio, so I have money, I just need to find an apartment somewhere.”

Lance had to almost physically put his hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from offering Keith to come live with him and Hunk, that was something he really should discuss with his roommate first, and focused his attention on gathering all the crumbs he could find in the bottom of the basket that had once contained fries.

He realized Keith’s foot had never moved away from his own and almost choked when he went to take a sip of his drink and felt the telltale warmth of a thigh against his. Keith didn't seem to notice, finishing his food with a satisfied hum and looked up at Lance with an expression that made his throat close up for an entirely different reason.

He should really ask him.

He still had no idea how to do that without sounding creepy.

 

On the way back to the parking lot their hands brushed together a few too many times for it to be coincidence and as Lance waved goodbye and watched Keith’s back retreating towards the dance studio he thought maybe he’d keep the parking permit in a more accessible compartment.

The rest of the day passed by in a breeze. He did laundry, cleaned up the kitchen and sweeped the apartment, humming to himself.

He felt lighter than he had in years, eager to make time pass quicker so he could go to bed. He cooked an elaborate meal with the ingredients he’d picked up on his way home from what he was calling his and Keith’s ‘lunch date’, making Hunk gasp when he opened the door.

“Who are you, and what did you do to Lance?” He asked, grinning as he removed his coat and dropped his bag by the door to his room. Lance hummed and winked at his friend as he sat down to eat.

“Secret”

Hunk laughed and shook his head. Undoubtedly Pidge already knew, in some fashion anyhow, which meant Hunk knew too. He realized then how strange it was that Pidge hadn’t blown up his phone about it and he turned with a frown to Hunk who somehow read his mind.

“She says she’s proud of you and didnt want to scare you away by being too excited or saying ‘I told you so’” he said without missing a beat. “Damn dude, this is so good, I wish you were able to cook every day.”

“Flatterer.”  he responded playfully, sitting down to join Hunk although he barely filled his plate. He’d had double lunch after all. “Not like I can compete with your cooking anyhow.”

 

Hunk agreed to do the dishes, especially after seeing how the apartment was essentially pristine, which left Lance to shower quickly and flop down on his bed.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He couldn’t decide if it was in case he’d been wrong, that his dreamscape had never contained Keith, or that, perhaps, tonight he’d get solid proof somehow.

Tentatively, he turned on his phone and opened Keith’s selfie. He stared at it for a while, brows furrowed as he considered the possibility. Possibilities? Imagined him and Keith holding hands, kissing, dancing. The thought struck him that he should sign up for some dancing lessons at Shiro’s studio. It would be a good excuse to go see Keith.

Or get one on one lessons with him.

He grinned to himself and put his phone down on the table next to his bed, curling up into his duvet and closed his eyes. It didn't take long until he felt the weightlessness take hold and he was drifting through an endless sky.

He floated down into waiting arms, gripping his sides and he looked into Keith’s eyes and felt the whole world shudder. Yep. That was Keith. There was no doubt about it.

He felt warm like he’d never felt warm before as he gripped Keith's right hand and placed his own on Keith’s shoulder. The waltz was a classic.

The steps were familiar, easy. It meant Lance didn't have to think as he grinned at Keith who laughed back and twirled him around. He could have imagined it, but the dream felt much more real, now that he knew that this was Keith.

_Keith._

“Keith”

The word echoed around them as they were both startled out of dancing, stopping abruptly and staring at each other.

“Keith” he said again, surprising himself with his ability to speak. He looked at the other, dumbfounded.

“Lance” was the breathless reply. Then they were both laughing and hugging and dancing again. They kept saying each other’s names out loud. The words spun around them and moved with their bodies until finally Keith tugged Lance’s face down and Lance’s hands raked through Keith’s hair and then they were kissing.

 _“Fuck”_ Lance muttered to himself as he slowly woke up. It was always such a bittersweet goodbye.

 

For once he got to see Hunk before he left for university and they had coffee together on the couch in relative silence. He and Hunk had known each other since high school when Lance’s family had immigrated, Hunk had helped him learn how to speak english, Hunk had been there when he’d been struggling with figuring out what to do with his life.

They knew each other so well Lance was surprised he felt nervous about telling him. He was hugging a pillow in defense when he gathered the courage to speak.

“There’s something I should tell you” he said, voice a bit more grave than he meant for it to be. This was good news after all! He was certain Hunk would be thrilled! Its not like he could ever be replaced by anyone, right? He wouldn’t think that.

Hunk put down his tablet and turned to him, frowning.

“You know Keith, right?” At Hunk’s nod he continued, “Well... he’s the guy from my dreams.”

Hunk’s jaw fell open.

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Does Pidge know?”

“Fuck no”

They both laughed and Lance felt the weight on his shoulders lift. Hunk was the best. Of course he wouldn’t get upset.

Hunk left after making Lance promise to tell Pidge before he got to school, or there’d probably be a shitstorm. That conversation went as well as he might have thought it would.

 

Lance: Hey you got a minute?

Pidge: Am on the bus so yea

Lance: So uhhh, don't freak out.

Pidge: Always a good start.

Lance: But Keith is the guy from my dreams.

Pidge: WHAT

Pidge: THE FUCK

Pidge: Are you serious?

Lance: Deadly.

Pidge: Damn.

Lance: Ikr

Pidge: Does he know?

Lance: I haven’t told him, if that's what you mean

Pidge: omg this is so fucked its hilarious

Pidge: Do you know if he dreams like you do?

Lance: He did mention something weird about thinking he saw me in a dream once but like … I can't exactly just go up and ask him “Hey do you dream about me every night?” Like how conceited would that look :c

Pidge: You’re right that would be pretty weird

Pidge: Especially if he doesn’t actually have the same dreams.

Pidge: How about if I ask him?

Lance: NOOO

Lance: That would be even weirder - plus kind of a personal defeat

Pidge: Okay but I -am- actually going to the dance studio today sooooooo

Lance: Dont you dare

Pidge: It’ll be casual, dont worry about it ;D

Lance: Ugh

 

He closed his phone and started getting ready for work. He felt like he owed it to the manager to work extra hard after his absence the day before, so he slicked his hair back and ironed his uniform before leaving. When he looked in the mirror he couldn’t help but grin; If there was one thing he’d never doubted, it was that he looked damn good.

He even earned a wolf-whistle from one of the waiters when he arrived to work barely half an hour early, fresh out of the changing room. Lance winked at him and playfully sent him a kiss before ducking into the kitchen.

“Welcome back, casanova” Viktor yelled over his shoulder, not even looking but somehow aware of what had taken place outside the kitchen. He was preparing sauces, it looked like, the whole kitchen smelled like roast. Lance laughed and quickly tied his apron around his waist.

“Thanks, Vic” He said, half-yelled to be heard over the various sounds of the other workers, and walked into the fridge to check what his schedule was going to look like.

He spent almost the entire day making new blooming flowers, barely keeping up with the demand and needing to be out on the floor entertaining customers. He’d lost track of how much chocolate he’d gone through when he started tempering a fourth batch, trying to remember how long ago he’d started the ice cream maker. To his left he was making candied cherries for the bar and next to it was a pot slowly heating with the glace for one of the many display-cakes the hotel used to lure people in for a cup of coffee. He managed it all with a smile, humming a tune he thought he’d forgotten as he went from one task to the other.

It was like juggling and he thrummed with the satisfaction of his effortless control.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder he almost jumped in surprise. The sudden, overwhelming silence of the kitchen hit him and he looked up with a confused expression. Viktor looked back with a grin, clapping his shoulder again before leaning against the counter behind him.

“Remember to head home, y’hear?” He said, the familiar words making Lance smile. He turned back to where he was rolling chocolate decorations on a slab of marble and continued working.

“Will do, sir” he replied happily, “Just gonna finish these up so I can do the cheesecakes tomorrow, Charlotte mentioned she’d like them ready before the bride arrives for the tasting”

Viktor hummed behind him.

“You seem very happy today.”

“I sure am!” he all but sang.

“Anything good happen?”

Lance considered telling him for a moment, about Keith, about weird dreams and longings and- then he realized Viktor probably didn't know he wasn’t straight, and he hesitated. He also considered the possibility that he might think he’d skipped yesterday to go on a date, which was technically what happened, but that wasn’t why he’d skipped initially. He ended up shrugging.

“Just life treating me good” he said, smiling a small, secret smile where he stood bent over the marble.

“That’s good. You deserve it” Viktor said, and Lance enjoyed how genuine he sounded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, can’t wait to taste those cheesecakes” another friendly clap on the back and then the sound of retreating footsteps.

“See you” Lance mumbled with his tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration.

He finished rolling, piped a few other decorations that he thought would look nice and stored it all safely in the walk-in fridge.

It wasn’t until after he’d cleaned up, changed and winked at the night-shift receptionist that he remembered to check his phone.

His breath hitched in his throat as he saw a message from Keith. It had been sent at 4 pm, 7 hours ago.

Oops.

Well, not like phones were allowed in the kitchen anyhow.

 

Keith: Hey, do you think we could meet up again sometime?

Lance: So sorry! Only just got out of work.

Lance: But sure! I’m guessing you’re not available right now haha

 

Lance unlocked his car and sat down, stomach fluttering. This couldn’t be a coincidence. If Keith didn't have those same dreams, if he really was just some random dude he had just met, wouldn’t he be taking it slower?

Lance toyed with the idea that perhaps Keith had just fallen that hard for him. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

His phone buzzed.

 

Keith: I’m available

Keith: But aren’t you tired if you just got out of work?

Lance: Nah i'm alright, just gonna head back to the apartment and change clothes and i’d be ready to go.

Keith: Or I could just come to your apartment?

 

Lance blushed at how quick their relationship was progressing.

He quickly found that he didn't mind, perhaps this was his chance to tell him? Ask him?

 

Lance: Sure! Uh, it might be a bit messy tho, do you need a lift?

Keith: No I’ve got a ride, when should I be there?

Lance: I’ll be there in like 10 minutes, so at any point after that?

 

This felt an awful lot like a booty call.

The realization hit Lance like a sucker punch, all his lovey-dovey anxiety retreating as if holding it's breath.

 

Keith: Sounds good.

 

Was that what Keith wanted from him? Had he just seen him, gone on a date and now he wanted to fuck? He felt his stomach twist in knots; On one hand he wanted to have faith in Keith, in his dreams, on the other this was still a complete stranger. He didn't even know Shiro that well. They’d known each other for like three days.

He’d literally picked him up off the freaking _sidewalk_.

 

On an entirely third hand Keith wasn’t exactly bad looking.

 

By the time he arrived home he was a nervous wreck. He stormed into Hunk’s room, intending to wake him up and tell him everything, hopefully get his opinion and his support before Keith arrived but had to stop in the doorway when he realized it was empty. He went back to the kitchen and only then saw the note on the kitchen counter.

 

“I’m staying at Pidge’s tonight, we’ve got a big prez tomorrow and we gotta be ready! There’s food in the fridge <3

  * Hunk”



 

Lance groaned - of all days!

He unlocked the door and sent Keith a message with instructions on how to get in while he took a shower. The hot water helped a little, but he was still feeling shaky as he got out, grabbed a towel and dried himself off half-haphazardly.

Deodorant, some lotion on critical areas and a comb-through of his hair later he left the bathroom to get some clothes from his room.

He stopped in the hallway, hand still on the doorknob, nothing but a towel around his waist as he stared at Keith who had apparently just opened the front door, his hand also on the doorknob.

“Hey” Lance managed.

“Hi” Keith said.

Neither moved. At least not until Lance cleared his throat and closed the bathroom door.

“Just going to go grab some clothes, make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” Keith seemed relaxed, maybe he did this all the time?

That thought stung.

He fished out his nicest-looking pyjamas, a simple tee and dark blue sweatpants, considered briefly putting on something fancier, fretted like a teenager, and made his way back to the living room where he found Keith still standing near the entrance, eyes fixed on Hunk’s note, brows drawn down in a frown.

Lance immediately realized the misunderstanding that could be brewing. He quickly moved to the counter and cumpled the note before throwing it in the trash.

“Hunk is my roommate” he said, smiling apologetically, “Did Pidge ever mention him?” _Please Pidge._

“Oh, yeah he came to the studio today”

_Thank fuck._

“Yeah they study together. I’ve known him since forever, super cool dude.” He tried to grin.

It took him a moment of awkward standing around before he realized Keith had still barely made it a foot into the apartment, still in his jacket, still wearing shoes. His hands were in his pockets, his face in a weird expression, something Lance might call a frown.

As if he was deliberating something.

A dozen different scenarios flew through Lance’s head; From Keith regretting his decision to come, to fighting the urge to just throw himself at Lance, to being about to burst out crying.

“Would you like some coffee? Its kinda late” Lance said, quickly turning to busy his hands before he could worry himself out of his mind. Behind him, much to his relief, he heard the sounds of Keith taking off his jacket, and, he presumed, his shoes too.

“Yes please”

“Hope you like instant”

“It-it’ll be fine”

Lance raised an eyebrow at that, but Keith couldn’t see it from where he was standing in the middle of the room, facing Lance’s back. He sounded nervous, now. Hadn’t he been completely calm a moment ago?

Lance clinked the teaspoon on the edge of the second cup he made and then put it in his mouth as he turned with a flourish, similar to his style of presenting blooming flowers at the hotel. He held a cup out and Keith took it with a thin smile.

“Sooo” Lance slurped a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Whats up?”

Keith blew into the cup, trying to cool down the liquid before tasting it as well. Lance tried to pretend he didn't see him hide a grimace, he knew this wasn’t exactly _good_ coffee.

The caffeine was wonderful, though.

When Keith didn't answer immediately, Lance sat down at the kitchen table, clutching his cup in an attempt to warm his hands. He’d always had bad circulation.

It took a moment before Keith sat down as well and they mirrored each other’s positions.

“Pidge… Told me to come.” He said, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in Lance’s head.

“Uh-”

“She said you have these-these - Dreams.” Keith all but blurted out and Lance thought he might choke on his coffee. He coughed hoarsely trying to clean his lungs of hot, bitter liquid before he finally blinked at the man in front of him.

“She, I- What?” He tried, voice pitched an octave too high, Keith looked like he’d stepped on a cat’s tail; one hand raised as if trying to apologise as his face set in a mild panic.

“I-I’m sorry I know its weird I just-”

“Weird?” Lance cringed at how panicked his own voice sounded.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” Keith rubbed the heel of his hand into his forehead and made a mangled sound.

Then it hit Lance that he had been set up.

Of course Hunk wouldn’t be home on the same night Pidge had told Keith to hit him up. Of course she had told him to ask specifically to come to their apartment, of course that wasn’t something Keith would just _do_.

“Pidge I swear to god …” he mumbled in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to have a stern conversation with her when next they met.

“Listen I’m sorry she told you all that stuff. You’re probably really creeped out and-”

“No!” Lance flinched when Keith raised his voice. His eyes were desperate when he reached out and plucked Lance’s hand out of the air, clutching it in both of his.

Keith’s hands were warm.

“I have them too.”

 

Lance bluescreened.

He just sat there, vaguely aware that his mouth hung open, staring at Keith as if he might disappear if he blinked.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. Was this what normal dreams were like? Would he wake up in his car in just a moment, realize he’d left Keith hanging and profusely apologize before going through an equally awkward but somewhat more believable evening?

He hoped to everything that was holy that he wouldn’t.

 

Keith fidgeted, the pressure on his hand shifted as he did and it was enough to drag Lance back to reality. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Y-you do?” was all he managed, and he could’ve slapped himself for how stupid that sounded.

“Yeah” Keith breathed.

Lance felt his face break in a smile and his throat closed up. He leaned towards their clasped hands, drew Keith’s close to him and touched his cheek to his knuckles. He could feel the beginning of tears as the warmth of Keith’s skin against his own made his heart feel like it was beating out of his ribcage. Then Keith disentangled one of his hands and slowly brushed a thumb over his cheekbone. So soft a gesture Lance felt like he might just melt.

“You found me” Lance muttered, half-sobbed, still hiding his face behind their entangled hands, unable to find the words for the flurry of emotions that erupted in his chest. “I didn't think it was actually true, that you were actually-”

“I am. I found you” Keith said.

And it was true. He was there, he was real.

 

“I found you”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I wrote this out in like two days or smth so it isn't beta-read and probably full of flaws but I liked the idea so much I couldn't stop.  
> I've worked in a bakery and technically have formal education in confection/cake making? (English isn't my first language) so I thought it'd be fun imagining the kind of place i'd like to work if I made any use of it, although this is probably very heavily romanticised.
> 
> The art is made by me and you can find it on my tumblr: 1221sartblog.tumblr.com !


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